Upon My Giant's Shoulder
by Lorry
Summary: A Magical Creature tells the story of how she met Rubeus Hagrid. This is a tweaked version, cut into two chapters. Let me know what'cha think!


Upon My Giant's Shoulder

By: Lorry ( hagrid7@mailbolt.com )

Rated G

Summary: A Magical Creature shares stories about her past with Hogwart's Gamekeeper

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns the Potter world, and all of the characters therein. The spryte Katrianna is my own creation. This story is for entertainment purposes only, no profit will be made by me.

Author's Note: Imagine yourself a first year student on the steps in the entranceway to Hogwart's great hall. Someone has snitched the Sorting Hat, and someone else has been asked to entertain you until it's been recovered....

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Good evening, little humans. My name is Katrianna, and I must say it's a magnificent pleasure to meet yeh. In case yeh wasn't knowin', I am a spryte. _Florenius Spryticus_, if yeh truly need ter be formal. Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me teh entertain you first year students here fer a wee bit while we wait fer Professor McGonagall. Seems as though someone has made off with that ancient, smelly old sorting hat and there'll be a delay in our dinner till it be found. In my opinion somebody should be findin' and enchantin' a newer version a that old thing anyway. A'course nobody here has asked fer my opinion. They only asked me ter tell yeh a story, and I've spent the last little while tryin' ter decide just what story ter tell. Hogwart's School has plenty a stories, I'd wager, but I've decided ter tell you a tale of my own. The only story I truly know by heart. It's a tale of a strong, fierce love between two what never shoulda found each other. A great vast giant and a tiny little spryte. 

You see, it hasn't been that long ago that only a few people knew a my existence here at Hogwart's. I lived unknown ter all but a few, down there in Hagrid's cabin. You all remember Hagrid, the giant who met yeh at the train station this afternoon? He's the one what always greets the firs' years off the Hogwart's Express. He's got a heart of gold, that one, and it's jus' as big as he is. He's the one what be bringin' me ter the castle when I was much, much younger. I've been with him since before I can remember, and I love him more than I love me own breath, but as most stories go, that weren't always the case. It took a long time fer Hagrid teh steal my heart. Time and more patience than I'da give myself, if I was teh be pure honest. 

Now most a the time it's impossible ter catch a spryte like me, but Hagrid were extremely lucky as a boy. He picked my birth flower along with a handful of others ter give his mum on her birthday. 'Course, when the flower opened and I emerged he begged and cried and wailed ter keep me. His dad, bein' as kind-hearted as Hagrid, musta given in, for soon I was living in a fine gilt cage with tiny down-filled cushions. Hagrid even made sure I had fresh flower petals ter sleep on every night. As I mentioned a'fore, he's a kind-hearted person, my Hagrid. He'd fetch me the choicest nectars ter drink and there were always plenty a fresh berries and honey teh eat. He took good care a me, and all the while I ignored him, too busy inside my cage experimentin' with things of a sprytely nature.

I never knew how long he'd search ter gather flowers fer my nectar, nor did I see the many times he brought home bee stings fer his trouble, as he reached into hives, stealin' honeycomb fer me. Mostly I was a bit of a crank when Hagrid came 'round. What I wanted more than anything was ter be free. You see, that's all we spryte-folk really crave in this world. Our freedom. We must be free ter do the job a kissin' buds in springtime so they'll know when ter waken, and paintin' leaves with color in autumn to tell the trees it's back ter sleep. It's spryte magic what makes the flowers bow their heads at night, and it's a spryte's fresh kiss that opens them each morning. I was no different than any other _Florenius Spryticus _on that matter. Everything inside me longed ter fly free. 

So I was a petulant, pouty little creature, and when Hagrid did close his room up tight and let me out fer a wee bit a flyin' I always flew straight up and hid in the rafters. I never gave him the gift of sprytely sparkles, either. That went on fer longer than I can remember, even after he'd been accepted fer schoolin' here at Hogwart's. Oh he'd plead with me ter come down and sit on his shoulder while he worked on some homework project or another, but I refused him every time. It never stopped him from servin' me my nectar and wild honey, though. Even with all a his schoolin', even in the dead cold a winter. He never failed ter have me some breakfast waitin'. Teh this day I don't know how far he had ter walk teh find those things. 

Doins such as that have a way a catchin' up teh yeh, though. I remember the day I realized teh what great lengths Hagrid had been goin' just ter keep me happy.

He came into the room all clumpin' and bumpin', slappin' a bowl a honeycomb down on my table. His hand was covered with angry purple bee stings and his face was a matchin' color.

"Yeh won't be appreciatin' this no how, spryte," he told me most sullenly. "I got 37 bee stings fer me trouble this time, and there'll be no nectar fer yeh either. Snow's 10 foot deep out there and I've walked near a hunnerd miles trying teh find yeh some flowers. There's none teh be had and I'm tired of lookin'. Maybe we'd both be happier if I jus' set yeh free."

I could only gasp in amazement. Those words shocked me. I never thought Hagrid would say such a thing. Course he was only a boy at the time, and hadn't really meant it, but suddenly I realized what a terrible thing I'd done. I'd withheld my heart from someone who wanted nothin' more than my friendship. Hagrid had brought me gifts on every wakin' mornin' for longer than I could remember. He suffered, never mind puttin' hisself in harm's way, fer _me,_ and I had scorned his affections. Day after day I'd slight him, thinkin' only that I'd never have what I truly wanted and blamin' Hagrid fer it. It was no wonder he'd grown tired a keepin' me, and I could hardly blame him.

I thought all this over awhile, feelin' guiltier by the minute. Finally, I ventured out of my cage and onto his great hand, careful not teh step on any bee stings. I won't ever be fergettin' the look on his face when I flew up ter circle his head in three quick rounds, bathin' him in gold and silver sparkles. I did a lot a things that night I'd never done before. I used spryte magic ter ease the pain a Hagrid's bee stings. I rode about the room on his great shoulder, flyin in and out of his hair jus' to hear his rumblin' laughter. 

Later that night as I sat on his bedpost watching him fall asleep, I got the feelin' that the thing I thought I so desperately wanted had been under my nose all the time. That maybe in givin' my heart teh Hagrid I could find the freedom I'd so long sulked for.

After that, things got better and better 'tween Hagrid an' me. There's no greater joy than being free ter be yourself with a trusted friend. I told him all the secret longings of the spryte-folk, and he told me the sad history a the giants. That was when things went bad fer Hagrid at Hogwart's. We moved our things from the castle to the cabin. An' that was a sad procession fer such a short journey. Humans haven't ever been real tolerant of giants, and even some a the magical folk 'round here were just waitin' for him ter slip up somewhere. Only Dumbledore believed in us. And 'tween you and me, if _he_ hadn't had such faith in Hagrid we wouldn't be havin' this conversation, today. I musta been blind not ter see how low Hagrid had gotten. He tried not to show it 'round me, a'course, but losin' his dad, and bein' expelled from Hogwart's was more than he could bear. Only gettin' the job as gamekeeper kept him hopeful fer the future.

I remember one night in particular. I was watchin' Hagrid snore hisself teh sleep. Like usual, I checked the cottage teh see that everything was in order fer the morning. I flew a circle 'round the room and spied an awesome sight: a window left open due teh some part a Hagrid's dinner that he'd burned. As I looked up into the clear night sky I began teh wonder how it might feel teh pretend I was truly free in the manner of spryte-folk. I took a long look at Hagrid layin' there sleepin', and a longer look at the stars through the open window. Takin' a deep breath, I slid thru the opening, and with a burst of joy I flew straight at those stars. 

I sped upward fast as my wings could carry me, flyin' past the Dark Forest treetops. It was only when I got dizzy from thin air that I turned back toward the ground, zipping through clouds and leaving a tangle a their wisps behind me. I flew and flew and flew that night, flitting 'round the windows a the castle, peekin' in on sleepin' students and their fadin' fires. I darted about the Quidditch field like a fool - pretending to be the golden snitch. It was almost morning when I came back ter rest on Hagrid's rooftop. As I watched the sky lighten I could feel a grand discovery brightenin' my heart. I finally knew that I didn't need what the sprytes called freedom if I couldn't share it with my friend. My gilded cage in Hagrid's hut was truly home, an' my treasured place on his shoulder was where I always wanted to be. 

As I rose from my resting place, I heard a strange, muffled sound comin' up from below. I cocked my head teh listen, but couldn't make out the sorrowful noise. Curiosity got the better a me then and I darted back ter the window I'd escaped from, only teh fin' it had been closed up tight. What sight hit me then is somethin' I'll never ferget. Hagrid, sittin' on the floor in front a his great fireplace, clutchin' my cage teh his chest and sobbin' his heart out. He'd gotten up in the night and discovered me gone, and had no notion of the wondersome revelation a freedom I'd had on the rooftop. His heart was fair broken at the thought that I'd abandoned him, jus' like so many at the castle. I pounded on the window, but the giant was sobbin' so loud he couldn't hear me. I tried a burst of sparkles, but even that weren't enough ter capture his attention. Then I began a mad dash, flyin' from window ter window. Flit, pound, flit, pound, cryin' out his name at the top a my lungs. The irony a the situation was not lost on me: suddenly I was free, but locked out a the only place I wanted to be. In a fit of anger I finally launched an all-out attack on the window, kickin' with my feet, poundin' with my fists, wishin' fervently that sprytes were a little bigger and had jus' a tad more weight behind them.

Somethin' in my fit must've caught Hagrid's attention finally, fer I saw him rise from his place, wipin' his eyes with a sleeve as he lumbered toward the window. I pressed myself flat against the glass as he fumbled with the latch, finally understanding the power a love. True love had won over my heart with gifts great and small. True love had surmounted the great gap between one a the wee folk and a giant. True love made me free, even when I counted my home a gilded caged. 

When the window finally opened I flew straight at Hagrid, tryin' with all my might ter get my arms 'round his neck. A feat I'd never accomplish, but I did manage teh get a good grip on his Adam's apple. I could feel his huge heart beatin', causin' me teh rise and fall with it's rhythm, and I knew I was home. 

Burstin' through his hair teh hover on his stubbly chin, I chided him for lockin' me outa the house, dryin' his tears and cryin' my own at the same time. Somethin' yeh might not understand, 'less you know how dearly spryte-folk love their freedom. I knew then that Hagrid was freedom ter me, and that knowledge was a great and awesome revelation. You'll not be seein' me so well anymore, because of that great mane a hair and beard he's grown. But my place on Hagrid's shoulder is sacred now, and I won't be givin' it up fer nobody. 

Chapter Two:

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There was a time when we were separated, though. Since they've not come to fetch yeh fer the sortin', I'll tell yeh 'bout the time when all of Hogwart's came teh the aid of a spryte hoverin' near death's door. It all began when somebody gave Hagrid a dragon's egg. 

You see, Hagrid teaches the Care a Magical Creatures class, now. He likes nuthin' better than ter fin' some dangerous critter an' try teh raise it in our cabin. I took on the job a turnin' the egg whenever Hagrid was too busy. A job not too difficult, really. Together we cooked up a fine way fer me ter accomplish this in safety, since the little beastie egg had teh be kept fiery hot till it's hatchin' day. Hagrid kept it in a cauldron suspended over his fire, so he gave me an old oven mitt ter cover up with. I jus' flew into the mitt and bumped the egg from underneath teh keep it turned regular. Once I got the egg teh turn I turned myself 'round inside the mitt and flew out. Everyday I did this: fly into the mitt, dive into the cauldron, turn the egg, Then turn 'round and fly myself out again. All was well, an' the egg was gettin' on nicely, till the day a'fore the bloody thing hatched.

Nobody told me that dragon babies get more active in their eggs jus' before hatchin' day, an' I had no idea how much trouble that little bit a information were gonna cause me the last time I turned that perfidious egg. I did my dive into the cauldron, mitt covered from head ter toe as usual. I rocked the egg from side teh side, but it decided teh be stubborn. By the time I finally got it rolled over a bit, I'd worked up quite a sweat. I turned 'round quick ter fly out a that pot, but I wasn't fas' enough fer that dragon. The thing gave a squawk an' rolled right over on top a me, pinnin' my legs under its weight. 

Now, mind yeh, I didn't panic right away. I didn't realize the graveness a my predicament. It wasn't 'til I exhausted myself in that hot, sticky mitt that I began teh feel the first bit a fear touch my heart. My feet were burnin' terrible, but I couldn't decide if it were because a the great weight on top of 'em, or 'cause a the heat in the bottom a that cauldron. I'm sure we were an interestin' sight, that rockin' egg an' twitchin' oven mitt, strugglin' in the bottom of a great brass cauldron. Course, at that moment I wasn't findin' any humor in the situation. I'd never expected my time teh be over so soon. Sprytes can live quite near forever if they don't perchance teh get themselves stuck in oven mitt graves. 

I must confide in yeh now that that was when I lost the las' bit a hope I was hangin' on to. With all my might I cried out Hagrid's name fer the very last time. Lookin' out from the bottom a the mitt I spelled out my love fer him in spryte sparkles on the cauldron. Then I lay back teh watch as the words sizzled into the metal by the very las' a my magic. It took a great effort, but at least I knew that my friend would always know how much I loved him. 

As you can see, I'm still here at Hogwart's, an' powerful proud teh be here. I can't tell yeh much about what happened next, except that Hagrid tole me he got an awful sick feelin' while he was muckin' out the pig pen. He came back ter the cottage and that's when he foun' me. I was past consciousness by then, but he told me he rushed me ter Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, and together they freed me at las' from the loathsome oven mitt.

I floated on the brink a consciousness that week, while magic poultices a bat livers went ter work healin' my burned legs. I remember wakin' up a time or two teh great sighs and sobs that threatened teh blow me off my pillow. In dreams I saw Hagrid an' Dumbledore and Hagrid's friend Harry Potter, but I couldn't do much but lay there. Things couldn't have gotten much worse, reckon, 'less maybe if Hagrid had never gotten a sick feelin' and come home early that day. At least I thought they couldn't a got worse, till I woke up fully. Hagrid was by my bedside, a'course, and most relieved ter see me awake, but I could tell right off that summat weren't right. I figured the giant would switch from sad tears teh happy ones when it looked like I was gonna make it, but Hagrid stayed miserable, an' there's nothin' that'll tear at yer heart strings like a broken-hearted giant. He propped me up on my tiny pillows, tellin' me over and over how sorry he was fer leavin' me with the dragon's egg. 

"Hatched a bit later that night," he told me. "Had ter ship him teh Romania, though."

When I tried to offer my condolences on the egg I found that my voice was nearly gone, and that weren't near the extent a the damage. With a finger and thumb Hagrid picked up a little silver tray and set it beside me on the bed. 

"Thought I should be the one ter break the news, Tria," he whispered, while I stared at the intricate design a blackened whirls and curly-cues on that tray. I can't remember how long I stared before what I saw sunk in.

"My wings?" I croaked at Hagrid, but before he could reply great teardrops started streamin' from his eyes. I sank back on my pillow, wondering fer a long, long time if maybe I'd have been better off buried in the earth and never rescued from the oven mitt.

I tried not teh cry too hard in front a Hagrid, fer I didn't want him feelin' any worse about the accident. Mostly I think I just stared. Stared at the blackened lace ashes that Madame Pomfrey had ter cut away from my body. They looked so lifeless lying there in a place where they didn't belong.

Wings should never be served ter sprytes on silver platters. Wings are meant fer dancin' with the wind, fer circlin' a giant's head so fas' you both get dizzy, just fer the pleasure a bathin' him in and gold and silver sparkles.

I couldn't imagine how ter live a life without them.

It was only Hagrid's beggin' that kep' me from givin' in that day. I couldn't talk, couldn't fly, and wasn't even sure if my legs would carry me anymore. T'was never a more pitiful sight than this particular spryte that day. 

I woke up the next morning, though - even though I truly didn't want to. Musta been some strong pull that giant's love had on me. He was tryin' to convince me ter eat a drop a honey when Professor Dumbledore came in. He is a great wizard, and always seems to bring peace into every room he enters, but there weren't no peace he had that day that could a reached the depths a my gloom. He brought with him a man named Professor Snape, who held a tiny pewter flask in his hand. I'd never seen Snape that close a'fore, but he'd always made me nervous. Even more this time, fer the black scowl on his face tole everyone he did not want teh be seen in Madame Pomfrey's infirmary, wasting his time and talents on a useless little spryte.

He examined me like I were no more than a big black bug. Like maybe I could a made him sick as I was with merely a touch. I wasn't much fer entertaining guests at that moment anyway, so I simply rolled over into a tiny ball and locked eyes with Hagrid.

"Professor Snape's got a potion here that'll help yeh grow your wings back, Tria," he gently explained. "Stayed up near all night puttin' it together. You gotta give it a try. Don't be leavin' me now. We got years and years ahead of us. It'll work, you'll see. I never seen one a Snape's concoctions what didn't."

I searched his beloved face fer hope, and I must have found a little, fer I made myself roll over an' accept Snape's drop of golden wing-restorin' potion. It made me feel as I had that night I tried teh fly teh the stars. Up, up, up I went, only ter feel so dizzy that I had to come back down teh earth or explode. T'was so strong a potion that it knocked me flat against my pillows. For a long, long time I couldn't breathe. That in itself made me hopeful that maybe it were powerful enough teh help me.

Nothin' magic happened though. I glanced over my shoulder teh see if new wings had begun ter sprout, but even with Dumbledore's extra push a magic, nothin' happened. Not that day, or the next, or even after a week of Snape's potion. It did wonders at speedin' up the healin' a my feet, though, and there were times when I could feel my voice returning. But every time I held my breath and craned my neck teh look over my shoulder there weren't any wings, and nothin' ter suggest that there'd ever be any.

I think Snape got more angry with me with every visit. He'd dole out the golden droplet an' leave, robes all a'swirlin' and mutterin' under his breath. I have teh say that he was determined, though. More'n I was, teh be pure honest. I had nearly accepted the fac' that I'd never have my wings and never fly again when I woke up one morning teh the strangest, warmest feeling. I opened my eyes an' saw the King and Queen of Spryte-folk hoverin' over my bed. Hagrid was with them, and I knew without bein' told that he had fetched them. Somehow he'd gone out and begged the magical creatures a the forest ter do what they could ter help, and they had not let him down.

The Spryte Queen circled me, cluckin', "Oh dear. Oh, poor, poor dearie," over and over again, while the King stood solemnly at the head of my bed.

"So this is the spryte who's been takin' up with giants, is it?" he asked no one in particular. "Imagine. A spryte that gives up it's freedom for the likes of that."

I knew he was referring ter Hagrid, but I didn't reply. I only tried ter remember how unfathomably sacred freedom is teh spryte-folk.

"He is in her heart," the Queen answered, and I turned teh look at her wonderingly.

"Oh I see it all dear. It's right there." She tapped my chest with her wand. "The love of her friend has set her free, Quarles," she attested teh her husband. "This is not your ordinary giant."

"That ain't your ordinary spryte." Hagrid's warm voice filled the room.

The Spryte Queen only shot him a glance, then turned her attention back teh me. "Let us see, then. Is it true?" She prodded me teh roll over so she could see my wingless back. A gasp of shock escaped her lips, and I heard one from her husband as well. Suddenly I felt very tiny and ugly before them.

"A spryte without wings is a dead one." Quarles announced, and I decided that that must be his kingly duty. Harsh and unfeeling announcements. And that was also when I foun' I could no longer hold my peace.

"A spryte without love is a dead one, your Highness. I have decided ter live."

"Do you not know that there is no magic could be bringin' back a spryte's wings?" the Queen asked, almost gently. "Sprytes are not born like most other creatures, they are created in the heart of only the choicest flowers of the forest. Only those touched by my wand. The wand is what plants the seed, and the purity of the flower and the rain it drinks does the rest." 

Giving Hagrid her full attention then, she asked him, "How did you come upon this spryte, giant?"

Hagrid shuffled uncomfortably under the Queen's direct gaze, and I couldn't blame him. She made all he'd done fer me over the years suddenly seem like a crime.

"She came in a bunch a flowers I picked fer my mum on her birthday. When I was just a little 'un," he told her.

"And how long ago has that been?"

"Mum was 57 that year, and I was barely three. It be close ter 70 year ago, Highness."

"Seventy years ago.... in the spring?"

"Yes, Highness," Hagrid remembered. "Had to be spring. My mum's birthday's in March."

"The same month the unicorns are born," the Queen mused, sayin' that last bit like we all knew the significance. 

"So this spryte here, Katrianna, owes you a life-debt,"

"Katrianna don't owe me nuthin', Queen," Hagrid disagreed gruffly.

"You clothed her, you fed her during those critical first weeks. Did she bond with you right off?"

Hagrid gave a little laugh at that thought, and I turned away ter hide my own grin.

"Nope, Highness, she didn't bond with any of us, at first."

At first, or second, or third, fourth or fifth fer that matter, I thought teh myself.

"But you continued to provide all things for her?"

"I don't see how that's so important near 70 years later," Hagrid complained. "Katrianna's been free ter stay'r go fer a long time now, an' no matter how hard it may be for yeh ter unnerstand, she's chose ter stay with me. With great big lumoxin' old Hagrid the giant. Can yeh give her her wings back or no?"

I wanted to cheer for him then, but didn't venture a word. It would not do to offend the Queen if she were on the verge a givin' my wings back.

The Spryte Queen turned teh me, then. "Is this true?" she asked quietly. "And have you ever heard of any spryte in all this world's creation takin' up with giants?"

"It's true Hagrid's taken care a me since my birthin' day," I answered stubbornly. "And I will stay with him whether I get my wings back or not. I love him."

"And will this one you love want you any more if you'll be forever without flight?" King Quarles asked hurtfully. "You won't be such a magical creature anymore. Just a tiny little _girl_." 

I looked at Hagrid with the utmost confidence then, an' eyes shinin' bright, I turned back to face the King.

"Hagrid will always want me," I told him confidently. "If I were wingless and sightless he'd want me still."  
  
"How can you know that?" Quarles challenged haughtily, but I would not be dragged into his argument. 

"He wanted me all those years when I was heartless," came my whispered reply.

That brought a gasp from the bosom of the Spryte Queen, who'd been watchin', silent all along.

"You'll have your wings back, dearie," she promised. "If you'll grant us the honor of dining together this evening. I want to see wherein lies the greatness of this friendship."

Hagrid threw his head back and laughed a laugh that shook all three of us spryte-folk nearly off the bed, and Dumbledore, who'd been watching the whole display, kindly invited the Spryte King an' Queen to a feast that night in this very great hall.

I got my wings back with a warm touch from the Queen's wand, and a'course I flew straight teh Hagrid. I dove in one side a that great mane of his and burst out the other, fairly showerin' everyone in the room with silver and gold sparkles. Only one complication arose from the whole dragon egg incident. Seems Snape's golden Wing-Restoring potion had an amazing effect on me. I've ended up with an extra pair a wings. Not that I'm complainin' mind yeh. I just tell Hagrid that those extras are fer the next time someone gives him a dragon's egg.

There was a dinner in the great hall that night, much like the one you'll be joinin' when the sortin' hat's finished with yeh. The Spryte King and Queen had a tiny table of honor set on top a the head table, right up there by Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. 

They set a place at the table fer me teh use as well, but I had a better idea as teh where I wanted teh drink my nectar. I refused politely and spent the evening right where I belonged: upon my giant's shoulder.

The End


End file.
